


Tumblr Ficlets II

by eden22



Series: Ficlets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eden22/pseuds/eden22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collected ficlets from my tumblr. All chapters labelled with pairing for easy searching.</p><p>[1] Steve and Bucky are in a nightclub with the Avengers. Bucky is trying to subtly manoeuvre them so he can try that grinding thing on Steve. (Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[2] things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear (Sam/Steve)</p><p>[3] Things you said when you thought I was asleep (Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[4] things you said after you kissed me (Sam/Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[5] 'The fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU (Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[6] "I just committed a crime and i need to use you as a hostage i am so sorry" AU (Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[7] What if people’s hair changed color based on their emotions? (Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[8] Steve comes home to find a half unconscious Bucky at his doorstep, mumbling things like 'please kill me now'. Steve of course does no such thing and takes him inside. (Steve/Bucky)</p><p>[9] “i started a bird watching club at school and you are the only one(s) who showed up at the first meeting so now i love you” au (Sam/Steve/Natasha)</p><p>[10] Could you write something with Laura/Clint/Natasha/Bucky?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dance Dance (Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gorsewitch asked:  
> Steve and Bucky are in a modern nightclub with the other Avengers. Steve is Horrified by the Goings On. Bucky is trying to subtly manouvre them so he can try that grinding thing on Steve. The Avengers are totally aware of what's going on and think it's hilarious.

The flashing lights and thudding bass were new, yet the feeling that was swelling within Steve’s chest as he looked around the room was not. It was the same feeling that had bloomed in skinny little Steve Roger’s chest in the 1930s when Bucky Barnes had dragged him out to the dance halls. The taste of fear was bitter and chalky on his tongue as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot where he was tucked into a corner near the bar, trying to will himself small and unremarkable again. He felt like an animal, trapped and desperate to escape. 

“Isn’t this great?” Bucky’s voice was loud in his ear, brimming with cheerfulness and excitement, just like it had been then. Steve didn’t bother turning his head to glare at his friend, instead staring out over the heads of the rolling crowd. It wouldn’t do any good anyways, post-recovery Bucky was just as immune to Steve’s angry looks as he had been when they’d been living in a run down tenement. Someone nudged against his other side, and he looked down to see a head of bright red hair and a blinding grin. Natasha looked up at him, obviously amused by his discomfort as she wound an arm through his. 

“Not dancing Rogers?” She asked, and Steve rolled his eyes at her. 

“It’s so different,” Bucky was either ignoring Natasha or couldn’t hear her over the din, staring at the crowd with a look of wonder that caused a fond smile to stretch across Steve’s face against his will. “You remember how it used to be Steve? Everyone doin’ the same dances, your partner always knowing how to move. Course,” he continued, looking up at Steve with a shit-eating grin, “you were never very good at that, were you?” Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Really?” Natasha popped her head around Steve’s torso to see Bucky, “Steve can’t dance? But he’s so graceful when he’s fighting…” Bucky was already shaking his head. 

“No, no Steve here was a goddamn terrible dancer. Didn’t matter how much we practiced, how many times I showed him the moves, by the time we were twenty every dame in Brooklyn knew better than to agree to a dance with little Stevie Rogers, not ‘less they wanted their toes stepped on.” Natasha looked delighted at this new knowledge, looking between Steve and Bucky. Steve groaned, putting his head in his hands. 

“You can’t remember your own mother’s name,” his words came out muffled against his palms, “why do you haveta remember that I’m a bad dancer.” Bucky reached up to pat Steve’s shoulder, a solemn expression on his face. 

“Pal, ain’t nobody who’s seen you dancing that ever forgot it. Sight like that stays with a man until death. Past death,” he amended with a grin that Steve couldn’t help but return. 

“I wish I could have seen that,” Natasha said, a smirk pulling at the sides of her lips. Steve narrowed his eyes at her. He knew that look. That look never boded well for anyone, least of all him and his dignity. Sure enough Bucky’s eyes lit up. 

“Well hell, Steve, you can show her right now!” Steve was shaking his head before Bucky even finished the sentence. Natasha pouted. 

“C’mon Steve, you wouldn’t deny your friend something she wants, would you?” Natasha put extra stress on the word ‘friend’ and Steve knew when he was being manipulated but that didn’t stop him from sighing, allowing a delighted Bucky to pull him out onto the floor. He let Bucky lead him through the steps for the lindy hop, memories of doing this before, in the cleared out main room of a dusty Brooklyn flophouse. He was staring down at his feet, concentrating, when he suddenly realized that Bucky’s attention had wandered again, staring out at the crowd that swarmed around them.

“Buck?” Steve asked, knowing that Bucky still had trouble with crowds sometimes. The loud music and flashing lights couldn’t be helping either, and he started figuring out which exit would be the easiest to get to with Bucky in tow. Before he could implement his plan (which might have involved climbing the rails to the second floor and hopping over the bar), Bucky’s eyes snapped back to his, and he was relieved to see that his gaze was clear and focused. 

“It’s so different,” he said again, and Steve leaned in slightly to hear him better. Bucky looked back over the crowd. “It’s not… there’s less skill, less coordination but it’s more raw. More pure.” He grinned, sharp and wide, turning back to Steve. “Savage,” he said, and Steve swallowed hard. Suddenly Bucky was stepping up into his space. Steve tried to back away, but only encountered a wall of bodies that pushed him back against his friend. 

“Buck…” he started, but was stopped when Bucky’s metal arm snaked around his back, pulling him tightly against the other man as Bucky ground his hips in a slow circle. Steve’s mouth fell open in a shocked gasp, and Bucky grinned, and then did it again. Steve’s hands fluttered around, uncertain, before finally settling on Bucky’s hips. His hips were now grinding into Steve’s in time with the beat, and Steve thought distantly that this could get embarrassing fast. That thought also occurred to Bucky, judging by the heat that filled his gaze as he reached up, pulling Steve down into a filthy kiss that quite decisively ended any thoughts he’d been having to the fact that they were dancing like this in a crowd of people. Bucky pulled back from the kiss with a final nip to his lower lip, then turned, grinding his ass into Steve’s crotch and Steve gasped, fingers flexing on Bucky’s hips as he resigned himself to just settling in for the ride. 

***

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Natasha said, settling back into her seat at the table on the upper floor. Sam glanced down over the railing at the two super soldiers grinding against each other in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Huh,” he said, opening up his wallet and handing Natasha the money, “I really thought Steve would see through that.” 

“Steve’s got blinders on when it comes to Bucky,” Clint said from where he was sitting next to Natasha, craning his neck to get a better view of his teammates dancing. “That’s really hot,” he commented absently, and Natasha smacked his thigh, but smiled. Sam gave them a bemused look. They were so weird. 

“My eyes,” Tony complained to Bruce and Rhodey at the table behind them, “my eyes, guys, this is so wrong, I’m watching a national icon be defiled here. Think of the children!”

Everyone ignored him, too busy looking down at Steve and Bucky dancing. 

It really was a beautiful sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/131915944258/steve-and-bucky-are-in-a-modern-nightclub-with-the)


	2. Eavesdropper (Sam/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shevni said:  
> things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear sam/steve (but not angsty if possible) :)

Sam stopped before entering the guest bedroom, caught up by the sound of his name. He’d directed Natasha and Steve up into the guest bath partially because they really did need to wash the soot and blood from them and partially to give himself some time to wrap his head around everything that was happening. Running into Captain America while jogging was one thing. Having him show up at your house, dusty and beat up and on the run from every law agency in the United States and several International ones to boot? Yeah, that was on a whole ‘nother level. 

So Sam had sent them upstairs and had had a very quiet freakout in his kitchen. Then he’d started making breakfast. Cooking always calmed him down and centred him, but the amount of calming down he’d needed after finding Captain America and the Black Widow on his door step… well, he’d ended up making what was quite frankly a ridiculous amount of food, but whatever. He was sure Steve at least, with his super soldier serum, probably ate a fuck ton. 

He’d been on his way up to let them know there was food, and had just begun to be able to pick out words amongst the murmur of voices floating through the open doorway when he’d caught his name and had frozen on instinct. 

“I mean really Rogers, who is this guy? It’s not that I don’t trust your judgement…” but I don’t trust your judgement. The words went unspoken, but Sam could still hear them clearly in Natasha’s silence. 

“But you don’t,” Steve said flatly. Obviously he’d heard it as well. Natasha sighed. “No, no,” Steve continued, “No, I get it. You were just- we were just betrayed by a lot of people we trusted. I don’t blame you for… and lord knows I haven’t always trusted the right people… but Natasha, you have to believe me on this one. Sam’s one of the good guys.” 

“Why?” Natasha’s voice was intent as she replied, “I’m not trying to be rude here Rogers, but seriously, why? What makes this guy so special? You barely know him!” Steve sighed and Sam could almost picture him, the tired slump of his shoulders as he tried to convince Natasha to trust Sam. 

“You saw his service record,” Steve said which, what the fuck? How the hell had they-

“Yeah, hacking is much easier when a STRIKE team isn’t about to pop up and execute us.” Ah, Sam thought to himself. “But Steve, seriously, it can’t just be his military record. Pierce…” There was a moment of tense silence. 

“Seriously Rogers?” Natasha spoke, voice somehow surprised, delighted, and incredulous all at once, and Sam wondered what Steve had done to put all of that in the spy’s voice. 

“Shut up Natasha,” Steve grumbled, and Natasha laughed, a sound that was somehow terrifying despite being happy. 

“You think he’s cute! I can’t believe this! Captain America has a crush.” Sam’s eyes went wide and he felt his mouth drop open slightly. What? 

“Oh my god Natasha,” Steve said which wasn’t a denial…

What. The. Fuck. 

Sam was having serious difficulty processing this. 

“Is this how you flirt Rogers? Did you enlist Carter’s help on suicidal, insane missions too?” The silence was heavy from the other room, then Natasha laughed again. 

“It’s not… Jesus.” Steve’s voice was muffled, like he’d put his head in his hands. 

“Okay then so your judgement definitely cannot be trusted here,” Natasha sounded smug. “I’ll keep an eye on him, but I don’t think he’s Hydra.”

“What?” Steve sounded annoyed, “If you already trust him, why the interrogation.” 

“I wanted to find out why you trusted him.” Natasha laughed again, “I mean, I didn’t expect to find out you have a fucking crush on him, but here we are. Besides,” she continued, “I didn’t say I trusted him. I just said I don’t think he’s Hydra.” There was another moment of silence. 

“Are you okay?” Steve’s voice was soft. 

“When I first joined SHIELD, I thought it was going straight-” Sam started, abruptly registering that he was listening to a very personal, private conversation, and since was no longer the subject under discussion… He abruptly turned around and went back down the stairs as quietly as he came up them. After waiting a moment, he came back up, making sure to make much more noise this time. 

He’d had about all the earth-shattering revelations he could handle for one day, thanks. Captain America had a crush on him. Jesus fucking Christ. He swore he could hear Riley laughing at him. 

He was so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/132051880243/20-samsteve-but-not-angsty-if-possible)


	3. Memories of Us (Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theyoooraeken asked:  
> Stucky and 12) Things you said when you thought I was asleep (because my feels feel this would be feelsy)

Bucky woke up slowly. He was pleasantly warm, securely wrapped in the mound of blankets that smothered his and Steve’s bed. Their weight and warmth and softness were a comforting remember every time he woke up of who he was and where he was. The hot press of Steve against his back didn’t hurt either. They were both wearing boxers, too tired when they’d gotten back from the mission the night before to do much more than collapse into bed together, but Steve’s chest was still plastered against Bucky’s back, their legs intertwined.

Bucky had discovered, to his absolute delight, when he and Steve started spending the nights in the same bed, long before they started doing anything else in bed together, that Steve was an absolute octopus in his sleep. He hadn’t used to be – the few times before the war and during when they’d shared a bed for warmth it had been perfunctory, either Steve resenting needing Bucky to stay alive or Bucky still shying away from touch after everything Zola had done to him. Now though, now was a entirely different story.

He didn’t know if this was just a natural development in Steve now that he was no longer angry all the time about needing anyone’s help, or if it was a reaction to losing Bucky then finding him again, or if it had something to do with all the years he had spent alone and frozen and lost. Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Besides, no matter why the change, the fact remained that however they fell asleep, Bucky always woke up with Steve wrapped around him, face nudging into the long hair at the back of Bucky’s head, arms wrapped around his chest and legs tangled, leaving Bucky feeling secure and warm and loved. It was, alongside the ISS and pop music, one of his favourite things about the future.

Waking up slowly was a privilege fought for in hours of therapy and days spent remodelling the apartment to his specifications and Bucky savoured it every time, the feeling of his eyes blinking open slowly and awareness of the space around him fading in. It took him several minutes to register that the noises he was hearing weren’t from the city outside the window, but were being whispered by the mouth pressed against his neck, soft lips brushing gently against his skin as Steve spoke. He frowned slightly, easing into full consciousness even as he carefully kept his breathing even and his muscles relaxed, giving no outward sign that he was awake.

“-we were maybe fifteen? You’d just broken up with Minnie O’Connor. You took a bottle from your fathers cabinet even though you knew you’d catch a fist for it later. We climbed up onto the roof and smoked and got so fucking drunk… I don’t think I ever saw you so drunk again until the war. You were telling me some stupid story, about Richie and his crew, down at the docks. You’d only had that job for a couple months and I was sure everyday you’d lose it because of the shit you’d start with them.” Steve huffed out a laugh against Bucky’s neck that was more air than sound. 

“I remember that I looked over at you… The moonlight was the only light reaching the rooftop and my vision was so bad then, I could barely see you. But I remember, I looked over at you, you were looking up at the moon and laughing, and then you turned to me and grinned, your face lit up with the cherry glow of your cigarette and I thought ‘I’m in love with him’.” Steve paused, shifting. 

“It wasn’t even a surprise, not really. I mean, I hadn’t thought it before, hadn’t considered the possibility, but as soon as I did, it was so obvious and so… natural that it didn’t even give me pause. Besides,” Bucky could feel the smile Steve pressed into his shoulder, “it wasn’t like i was winning any favours with the ladies from church as was, and me and God had been fighting for a long time ‘afore I realized I was sweet on you.” Steve shifted again, and when he spoke again his voice was quieter, rougher. 

“I never told you and I always regretted it. I regret it now, with how fucked up your memory is, that I… I can’t tell you. I don’t blame you for that, but god, if I could do it all over again, I’d steal us both away from the war. Propose to you with my Ma’s old ring, run off to Canada. Say fuck it to the world. You and me Buck, that’s all I’ve ever needed. All I ever wanted and I almost missed it… almost lost it all without ever having it because I was afraid, because I couldn’t bear the thought not that you wouldn’t want me, but that you would run from me. That it would change things, that even if I didn’t lose you I’d still lose you. And I couldn’t do it Buck. I can’t do it. I can’t lose you.” Steve’s breath caught on a sob and Bucky couldn’t stay still anymore, turning over to wrap his arms around Steve, who startled before crumpling into Bucky’s chest. He wasn’t crying but his breath came rough and fast as he pressed his face into Bucky. He ran his hands over Steve’s bare back, hushing him. 

“I always loved you Steve,” Bucky finally said, voice rough, “I don’t need memories to know that. And I will always love you, no matter what. Nothing can keep us apart forever, not time, not ice, not Hydra. Not death.” 

“Nothing will ever stop me loving you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/132066431018/stucky-and-12-things-you-said-when-you-thought-i)


	4. Datemates (Sam/Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shevni asked:  
> more? always more. things you said after you kissed me ~~sam/steve~~ or sam/steve/bucky you decide :)

Bucky looked between the two men. Steve was looking at them with a familiar expression, fondness and affection. They could remember the same look on the face of a skinny, angry boy, the memory overlaying the present like a ghost. Sam’s face, when they turned to him, wore a similar expression, though his was tempered with slightly more concern than Steve’s. Though they didn’t have memories of Sam before echoing through their brain, the expression was still familiar, had frequently been directed at them over the past couple of months. Sam used to look at him with fear and wariness. Bucky wasn’t sure when the change had happened, but now there was none of that skittishness of who Bucky had been and what they were capable of remaining in Sam’s eyes as he looked at them. 

They still weren’t certain what exactly they had done to make Sam stop fearing them, if it was just the slow drag of time proving Bucky’s vulnerability and building Sam’s trust, or if had been some particular incident. The time they had tried to make pancakes for Sam and Steve after their run, maybe, but had instead started a small fire. The two men had returned from their run to find Bucky standing in the middle of the kitchen, soaked from the sprinklers and absolutely miserable. Sam had smiled so wide Bucky had though his face might split, they remembered. Or maybe it had been the time Bucky had gone to the shop on their own for the first time, Sam and Steve anxiously waiting for them back at home, and they had brought back the pasta they’d been sent out for, but also a bouquet of flowers that they had presented to the two men with a blush.

Or maybe it had happened after agents of Hydra had tried to get into Sam’s home. Bucky had stopped them, but had been unsure of what to do with the bodies, so they had stacked them neatly by the door while they waited for Sam and Steve to get home. Sam had laughed until he’d cried, and had taken to calling Bucky ‘kitten’. Steve had shaken his head at the both of them, and called it in to the new SHIELD. 

“Buck?” Sam’s soft voice, heavy with concern, brought Bucky back to the present. Both men were still looking at them, though Steve now also had concern in his eyes. 

“What?” They asked, not sure what was expected of them. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded. Why wouldn’t they be, they wondered. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked carefully. “I know it’s probably a lot, emotionally. We want to make sure every step of this is okay with you, and if it’s ever not, we need you to tell us, okay?” Bucky nodded, still confused. They tended to blurt out their emotional state at random anyways, and loudly announce when something was happening that they didn’t like. They didn’t understand why Sam and Steve were acting so strange about this. 

“Buck?” Steve said, and they turned towards him. “Do you want this?” He gestured between the three of them, “All of us? Together? Um, dating?” Bucky frowned, looking between the two men. 

“You… you don’t know if I want you?” They finally asked. Sam nodded. 

“We want to make sure that your okay with this, with us kissing you and maybe other things… which are totally up to you if they happen or not by the way.” Bucky tilted their head. 

“We are dating.” They said slowly. Steve looked relieved, and Sam nodded again.

“If you want,” he stressed. 

“No,” they said, “we are dating. We’ve been dating for months.” They looked between the two men, identical expressions of surprise crossing their faces. 

“Did you not know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/132064034063/more-always-more-14-samsteve-or-samstevebucky)


	5. Let Me Warm You Up (Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This (and the next two chapters) were previously posted on here as part of another, themed ficlet series, but since I have zero intention of ever finishing it, I'm just moving them over to this series.

Steve peered out of the corner of his eye, trying very hard to look casual and hide the fact that he was basically five seconds and a 20 degrees head turn away from straight up ogling the man standing next to him. The fact that he was shivering and bouncing up and down on his toes to try and maintain a little bit of body warmth wasn’t exactly helping him in his quest to remain unnoticed, and sure enough it wasn’t long before the man turned to him with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Oh god, Steve thought as he felt a blush shoot up his face, why did his voice have to sound like that? I mean, he thought, feeling slightly annoyed, the man already looked like some sort of greek god, did he really have to have a voice that sounded like it had been ripped off of a porno too? Not that Steve watched a lot of porn. With men who looked like his neighbour. That would be weird.

The man cocked an eyebrow at him, and Steve felt his blush deepen as he realized that he still hadn’t responded.

“Oh, um, yeah. Yes, I’m fine. Just, y’know, cold…” Steve trailed off, gesturing weakly at the snow covered ground around them as the man’s eyebrow just raised higher. He wanted to smack himself in the face. Of fucking course it was cold, it was January and the middle of the night… so far his first time talking to his hot neighbour was not going as well as he had imagined (not that he had imagined it. Much).

“You must be freezing,” he bit out, and the man grinned, looking down at himself, and Steve shifted awkwardly. He hadn’t meant to draw attention to the fact that the man was only wearing boxers… or that Steve had obviously taken note of that fact (of course, it was hard to miss, what with the American flag boxers, and the abs… and, somewhat incongruously, the pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers covering his feet). Steve felt even more self-conscious in his ratty-paint stained tee shirt and sweats, though he was more thankful than ever for the crazy hours he kept, as he tended to sleep nude (midnight painting was a perfectly normal pastime, no matter what Nat said about crazy boy wonders).

“They were a joke,” the man offered, and Steve hastily tore his eyes away from where they had wandered down to the man’s abs.

“Huh?” he managed, and the man’s smile widened, obviously aware of what had captured Steve’s attention.

“The boxers. They were a joke gift from my friend.”

“And you wear them?” The man shrugged.

“They’re comfy,” he smirked, “and very patriotic.”

“God bless America,” Steve said fervently under his breath, starting when the man laughed. He was now blushing so hard he was seriously concerned that his extremities might start freezing off from the lack of blood flow.

“Bucky Barnes,” the man – Bucky – offered, holding out a hand.

“Steve Rogers,” they shook, and holy fuck the m– Bucky’s hand was warn. Bucky had obviously noted the temperature difference as well, as he looked down at Steve’s hand with no small measure of alarm.

“Hey, seriously, are you okay? You-” but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the super, who clapped his hands loudly as he came out of the building, accompanied by a firefighter.

“Alright folks, that’s the all-clear! Have a good night, sorry about the inconvenience!” Steve was shocked to find himself slightly disappointed, he’d finally spoken to his hot neighbour and now they were going to go their separate ways and the only impression he’d have made was as the tiny, freezing cold perv that Bucky would spend the rest of his time living in the building trying desperately to avoid–

A shoulder nudged against his, and Steve looked up, startled, to find Bucky looking down at him in concern.

“What?” Steve asked, looking around to see that most of the building’s residents had already hurried back into their warm apartments.

“I asked if you wanted to come over to mine,” the other man replied with a grin, “and grab some hot chocolate and warm up.”

“Oh,” Steve replied with a slightly dazed look, “yeah, that sounds good.”

Bucky’s returning grin was blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come hang out with me on tumblr.](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/)


	6. Lets Play Cops and Robbers (Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just committed a crime and i need to use you as a hostage i am so sorry" AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meh.

Bucky could barely hear the man’s voice over the rushing in his ears at the press of a gun against his back. He thought he’d left this behind, he thought this part of his life was over and done with, he thought he was done…

"I’m sorry," a male voice said next to his ear, "I’m really sorry," and then louder,"okay, everyone stay back! Stay back!" The buzzing in his ears increased in volume as he felt himself yanked backwards, and stumbled as he allowed himself to be lead backwards out of the bank. God, all he’d wanted was to deposit his fucking disability cheque and go home.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck.

The van door slid open as Bucky came back into himself and was shoved into the back by the large man. Snapping back into awareness, Bucky took stock of his surroundings. He’d been in the bank when three gunman had come in, demanding the bank employees empty the vault while they held the customers hostage. But the security guard had gotten brave, tried to get in between the robbers and their getaway, and now Bucky was in the back of a van speeding away from the scene of a fucking bank robbery.

Fuck.

Who even robbed banks anymore??

The van was one of those nondescript plumber vans that every serial killer in every movie ever used to abduct their victims in. Bucky had been shoved in followed by the gunman, and was currently squished between one of the gunmen and several large duffle-bags of money (how, how was this his life). The gunman who had taken him hostage was sitting across from him. Bucky could see that he was speaking by the twitches in the muscles of his cheeks, though his actual mouth was still covered by the black bandanas all three were wearing to cover their mouths. The buzzing in his ears was drowning out the man’s actual words, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel that everything happening around him had a sheen of unreality, as if it couldn’t really be happening to him. Seeing a movement from the front of the van out of the corner of his eye, he turned to see the third gunman had tugged off her black beanie, revealing long red hair, and had also pulled her bandana off, presumably to blend into the sea of drivers heading home after work.

Bucky’s attention snapped back to the two men in the back of the van with him when one of them put his hand against Bucky’s knee. He stared at him, eyes wide and uncomprehending, watching the man’s blue eyes flick across Bucky’s face. Finally, seeming frustrated, he tugged off his bandana, despite the third robber’s attempts to stop him. Seeing the movement of the man’s lips gave Bucky something to focus on, and sound slowly began seeping back into the world.

"-and then we figured hey, let’s rob a bank."

"What?" Bucky said abruptly, and the man smiled.

Jesus, what a smile.

"Hey," he said softly, "glad you’re with us."

"Yeah," Bucky said slowly, looking around himself with a greater presence of mind, weighing his ability to escape his current circumstances versus the chances of getting shot. God, if it was only a year earlier, if only he had both his arms… “What are you going to do with me?”

"Do with you?" the man asked, brown furrowing in puzzlement.

"He’s wondering if we’re going to kill him," the woman said from the front, and the man looked upset.

"Jesus Nat, why would you even say that?" and Bucky's attention was drawn to the man sitting next to him, who had just smacked his hand against his forehead.

”No names! Jesus H Christ on a motherfucking cracker,” the woman swore, “W, hit him for me.” The man next to Bucky reached over and punched the shoulder of the unmasked man, who frowned at him and rubbed his shoulder.

"Rude. And no," he added, turning back to Bucky, "no, we’re not going to kill you." He shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "Um, what’s your name?" Bucky hesitated, and the man smiled in a way that was obviously meant to be reassuring (and god help him, it kind of was), “My name’s Steve.”

"For fuck’s sake Steve!" The woman - Nat - cursed from the front seat again, and the other man reached over and punched again Steve without having to be asked. A grown man should not be that adorable when he pouts, Bucky thought to himself, his fear receding a small amount at Steve’s obvious inability to be a proper cold-blooded robber.

"Bucky," he said with a small smile, "my name is Bucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/112479523193/bucky-could-barely-hear-the-mans-voice-over-the)


	7. Colour (Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this tumblr post.](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/117802007593/violasarecool-misfitreindeer-what-if)
> 
> What if people’s hair changed color based on their emotions?

Bucky blinked slowly at the man standing before him, smiling serenely up at Bucky, despite the fact that Bucky had definitely been staring at him for much longer than was polite.

"Um, what?" Bucky finally spluttered out.

"Venti chai latte. Skim," the man repeated, and Bucky's eyes once again flicked to the cloth covering the man's head, as well as his rather noticeable lack of eyebrows or any facial hair at all. Bucky had met other people who subscribed to the sans émotion philosophy of course, but...

"Um, right. Coming right up." Bucky swung around, feeling his face heat at his rudeness as he grabbed for a cup and pen. Bucky was sure his face was telegraphing his embarrassment and astonishment just fine without any help from his hair, but as he moved he caught a glimpse of a couple of stray strands that had slipped his bun, grimacing at the tell-tale pastel pink and violet strands as he turned back around to find the man still smiling at him, amusement dancing in his - wow, very blue eyes.

"Name?" he got out rather desperately, and the man's lips twitched as if he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Steve," he said, and Bucky glanced up, his eyes once again being drawn helplessly to the top of the man's head...

"Look," he blurted out, "I don't mean to be rude but, I mean, your headscarf, not that there's anything wrong with wearing a headscarf, I'm not one of those assholes who thinks everyone has to show their emotions, but, like..." Bucky stumbled over his words, not needing to see his hair to know it was turning bright pink to match the embarrassed flush crawling across his cheeks. The man grinned, saving Bucky from his own idiocy.

"Why cupcakes?" Bucky nodded dumbly, looking back up at the headscarf. It wasn't just that it was covered in cupcakes (it was) or that they were kawaii cupcakes with little smiling faces (they were) or that the entire thing was coloured like a Lisa Frank picture (it was) or that it was all incredibly glittery (it was) but he had also tied it in a style that Bucky had only ever seen on a couple of the girls in his dorms - namely, tight to the head around the back and sides but finished with a giant, floppy bow on the top.

It was a lot to take in.

The man shrugged, still smiling cheerfully despite the fact that his barista was giving him a lot more trouble than he had probably bargained for on a Tuesday morning.

"Why not cupcakes?" he asked Bucky, and honestly, what was he going to say to that?

He kept noticing the guy after that day (his name was Steve, he found out a couple of days later, when Nat, who was really a much better barista than he was, actually asked the guy for his name for his cup). He came by most days in the late afternoon, plopped down in one of the big comfy corner chairs that Bucky always tried to nap on during his early morning shifts (until his manager, Clint, came over and poked him awake), and sketched for several hours, often totally forgetting to drinking his latte until it was ice cold. Which Bucky knew because he'd seen him several times take a sip an hour after he ordered it, then make a face at it like the latte had betrayed him. Not that Bucky was looking. A lot. Like, a creepy amount, according to Nat.

He learned a lot about Steve during the next couple of weeks (not because he was being creepy, Natasha, he was just observant). Steve was tiny (barley coming up to Bucky's chin, and Bucky wasn't even that tall), Steve liked to talk big, razzing the baristas (to Nat's total delight, because she was an enormous asshole), and Steve was an amazing artist. Bucky may or may not have gone over and casually glanced at his sketchbook one day (most days) while Steve was in the bathroom, which was totally worth the torture Nat put him through the rest of his shift because not only did he find out that holy shit, Steve could draw, he also found out that Steve was sketching Bucky more often than not.

Finding this out resulted in his hair flaring red every time he saw the man, and Steve's smile just got bigger and bigger every time.

Steve also continued wearing his absolutely insane headscarves. Bucky had to wonder if he was somehow making his own prints, because really, what company was producing headscarves with sharks in ballet costumes? Or that neon orange monstrosity that Bucky swore made him see spots (it was decorated with slightly unnerving pink rifles)? Or the rainbow feathered print that he had told Steve made him look like a startled parrot? Or (and this one was Bucky's favourite) the lime green one with 'fuck you' printed on it in blue cursive over and over again?

"Hey Steve!" Bucky raised his head at Nat's voice, and found him looking down at Steve, who was smiling up at him from the other side of the counter.

"Hey Nat," he called over to the other barista, before turning back to Bucky, "hey Buck," he said, and Bucky swore he could feel his hair changing to a brighter and brighter red the longer the other man looked at him.

"Um," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "hey Steve. Venti chai?" he reached for a cup without looking and Steve nodded, grinning. Once the smaller man headed over to his usual seat, Nat jabbed him in the side. Bucky batted her away. She had been harassing him to ask the other man out for weeks now, which Bucky thought was rather hypocritical of her, since both her and Clint's hair both turned bright red whenever they saw each other, but she apparently enjoyed torturing their manager too much to agree to a date.

"Stop it! How am I even supposed to know if he likes me?" Natasha looked at him like he was stupid.

"Seriously Barnes? He draws you like, every day! It would be creepy if it wasn't so cute!"

"That doesn't mean anything," Bucky responded grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest, "he could just be... practicing with whoever's around."

"Right," Nat replied, raising a skeptical eyebrow, "that's why he's never drawn me. Or Clint. Or Darcy. Or anyone else, ever." Bucky just shook his head. He was so used to the easy certainty of hair colour, he didn't know how to approach someone who didn't have his emotions worn on his head for everyone to see. He didn't have much time to dwell, however, as they were slammed with a sudden rush, and his world narrowed to steaming milk and pulling espresso shots. The next time he glanced over at the corner seat, Steve was gone, and he shook his head, turning back to his task.

"Hey Buck!" Clint called, and Bucky looked up from where he was wiping down tables on the other side of the cafe. His boss was standing by the corner tables, looking at a piece of paper with a weird look on his face. His hair had turned a light orange as he looked down at the paper. "Come and look at this," he called, and Bucky headed over to him.

"What-" he started, as Clint handed him the paper, but then stopped as he looked at what he was holding. The sketch was as amazing as everything Steve had ever drawn, but this one wasn't just of Bucky, and it wasn't in simple graphite. Instead, the full colour sketch showed Steve and Bucky sitting at a diner, looking at each other. Steve had drawn himself without his headscarf, and his hair in the picture was the same bright red as Bucky's. Underneath it was a phone number.

The sounds of his friends cheering and mocking him filled the cafe, but Bucky couldn't bring himself to care, or to look up from the drawing.

He grinned.

Guess he was going on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [send me prooooooooooompts](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/)


	8. Home (Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haruatori asked:  
> Prompt (my first so let me know if I'm doing it wrong yah): Steve comes home to find a half unconscious Bucky at his doorstep, mumbling things like 'anti-serum testing' and 'please kill me now'. Steve of course does no such thing and takes him inside and tries to nurse him back to health. Lots of soup and aggressive video games involved. How's this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... deviated from the prompt.

The sun was barely creeping across the horizon when Steve rounded the final corner of his run, slowing to a walk as he made his way down the street to his brownstone. After what had happened with Fury, not to mention finding out that SHIELD had been watching his every move, Steve had invested in a detached brownstone in Brooklyn and, with Natasha’s help, had made some significant renovations to it. He hadn’t been there for long, and it wasn’t quite feeling like home yet, but the safety and security of having his own place had gone a long way to settling him after he had returned to New York. 

It had taken him a long time of chasing after the ghost of his best friend, but after what had happened with Ultron, and the events in Sokovia, he had finally capitulated to Sam’s increasingly aggressive and unsubtle hints that he needed to take a break. And he was probably right, even if Steve didn’t want to admit it. All the signs pointed to Bucky being free of Hydra, but the closest they had gotten to him since DC was arriving two days late at the smouldering ruins of yet another Hydra outpost. Bucky clearly didn’t want to be found, not yet, maybe not ever, and Steve had to respect that, no matter how much he didn’t want to. 

And fuck, he didn’t want to. 

Steve dragged himself out of his thoughts, frown shifting into a smile as he paused to say hello to Hakeem who was sitting on his front porch, smoking and drinking his coffee as he read his paper and watched the neighbourhood wake up. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, Steve leaning against the wrought iron fence as they discussed that day’s headlines. Hakeem and his wife Ishtar had been the first to greet Steve when he had moved into his new home, but far from the last. Brooklyn had welcomed her lost son home with a deep protectiveness that Steve would never stop being grateful for, guarding his privacy as fiercely as they would guard their own. It was the reason that his home wasn’t constantly crawling with photographers, why fans weren’t able to stalk out his home, why tourists and curious passerby were turned away as soon as their feet found there way to his street. 

“I saw your friend arrive at your place earlier,” Hakeem said after they finished talking about how sad and angry the anti-refugee rhetoric currently being spewed by politicians made them. Steve frowned. Sam was back in DC, wrapping up the last of his affairs before he made his move to New York official, and Natasha was… well, Steve wasn’t quite sure where she was. Paraguay maybe? Or perhaps Bolivia? All he knew for sure was that the last snapchat he’d gotten from her, making fun of Clint for his sunburn, had included a jungle in the background and signs in Spanish. Hakeem must have seen his confusion, because he continued, elaborating. 

“The one with long dark hair? He looks very sad?” Hakeem was watching him carefully, and saw the instant Steve stiffened. “Don’t worry,” he said, lowering his voice, “I won’t tell anyone about your boyfriend.” Steve didn’t bother to correct him, distractedly saying goodbye and quickly crossing the street. He carefully examined the door, but couldn’t see any signs of a break in. Unlocking it as quietly as he could, he slipped through the entryway, slowly making his way through the apartment, scanning the rooms as he went. Despite expecting someone - he refused to think of the intruder as Bucky, not yet - to jump out at him at any moment, he was surprised to make it all the way to the living room without incident. Sliding into the room, he immediately saw the lump on the couch, freezing as he caught sight of the long hair lying across the armrest, sliver hand just catching the light where it lay across a black-clad chest. 

Steve felt his breath catch as he froze where he stood. 

Long moments passed where the only sound in the room were Steve’s shallow breaths and the much rougher breaths of the man on the couch. His hearing could just pick up the sound of occasional muttered words coming from the man - from Bucky. It was the sound of Bucky distressed whimpers and whispers that finally unfroze Steve’s limbs, propelling him across the room to kneel carefully next to the couch, fear of the Winter Soldier subsumed by concern for Bucky. 

“Buck?” He whispered, and Bucky’s eyes cracked open, head lolling to the side to meet Steve’s gaze. 

“Steve,” he said, voice rough, and Steve wanted to cry. 

“Hey. Hey Buck. You okay?” His eyes flicked over Bucky’s body, not able to make out much in the darkness, though he didn’t see or smell any blood. Bucky was thin, too thin, and his hair was hanging long and ragged in his face, but he was here, he had come home, come to home to Steve. 

“Please,” Bucky started, breaking off as his eyes fluttered shut. Pulling them back open with obvious effort, he cleared his throat, starting again. “Please just kill me.” Steve’s stomach dropped like a stone. 

“I’m not going to do that Buck,” Steve whispered fiercely after a moment, “I _can’t_ do that. I’m _never_ going to do that.”

“Please,” Bucky repeated, licking his lips, “please, it hurts, please.” 

“Shhh,” Steve hushed him, reaching up to stroke his hair without thinking about it. Bucky’s head tilted into the touch however, so Steve kept doing it. “it’s okay. It’ll all be okay now. I’m here. I’m going to take care of you.” Bucky’s eyes slipped shut again, and the two men sat in silence, just breathing. 

Steve had finally gotten back his home. And he was never letting him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ reblog on tumblr ](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/134167881318/prompt-my-first-so-let-me-know-if-im-doing-it) (also feel free to come on over and send me prompts literally any time)


	9. Bird Club (Sam/Steve/Natasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i started a bird watching club at school and you are the only one(s) who showed up at the first meeting so now i love you” au

Sam had known that a bird watching club wasn’t going to be the most popular thing ever, okay? Like, he got that most twenty-somethings weren’t particularly interested in wandering around marshland at two in the morning trying to get a recording of a Eurasian Bittern, or driving five hours out of town just to hike four more hours into the jack pine forest in search of a Kirtland’s Warbler. He understood that. He was a realist, okay? He was. 

He still wasn’t really expecting to be sitting alone, ten minutes after the club’s inaugural meeting was scheduled to start, mournfully eating his third cookie as he looked around the empty classroom. 

People had signed up at the activities fair! He had the email list to prove it! And he could state with confidence that the email stating the meeting’s date and time had sent, as he’d checked it on his phone seven times in the last five minutes. And yet..

He was beginning to suspect that those people who had signed up had just felt bad for the grinning freshman babbling nervously to them about birds. He stared down at the packet of cookies in his lap, pausing before grabbing another one and popping it in his mouth. Fuck it, he thought, standing, it’s not like anyone else is coming to eat them. He’d hoped that the diversity of a university campus would have produced at least a couple other people interested in bird watching, but maybe he was just too weird in his interests. He thought mournfully of his bird watching club back home. Sure, the youngest person in it next to Sam had been fifty-six, and unlike the small town he was currently attending university in, the city hadn’t offered many opportunities for seeing birds in actual nature, but at least there had been other people in the club. 

Sam had turned to begin packing up when he heard the classroom door slam open. Jumping in surprise, he whirled around to find a tiny, heavily tattooed blond guy gasping for breath in the doorway, a taller red haired girl standing behind him, looking bored. 

“Um…” Sam said. 

“Birds!” The blond gasped out, before bending over as he began coughing, hands braced against his knees. Sam raised his eyebrows, eyes flicking to the girl. 

“Is this the meeting for the bird watchers club?” She said, heavily accented voice somehow conveying an impressive level of disinterest. 

“Yes?” Sam said, hating how it came out more of a question. The red-head looked down at the blonde, who was still desperately trying to catch his breath in the doorway. Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him, coming to a stop inside the room in front of Sam. 

“I’m Natasha,” she said, sticking out a hand for Sam to shake, “that’s Steve. We’re here for the club.” 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked. Steve had finally staggered fully into the room, door shutting behind him, but was now sprawled out on the ground, leaning agains the wall. 

“Yes,” Natasha said without looking. 

“Okaaaaay,” Sam said. Natasha looked around the room. “Um. Right!” Sam said loudly, hoping to distract her from the fact that her and Steve were the only ones to come to the meeting. Not that it was exactly hard to miss that they were the only ones in the classroom. But now that there were actual people in the room with him, Sam was desperate to get them to stay. 

“So this is the bird watchers club,” Sam said, wincing at himself. Way to state the obvious buddy, he thought to himself, great opening. Natasha’s gaze landed back on him, and he could see Steve was also now looking at him from his spot on the floor. So Sam fell back on his old standby: talk until everyone was comfortable, including himself. 

“I’ve never started a club before, but I was thinking that we won’t have regular meetings like other clubs, but just get together for various hikes and stuff. I mean, I can’t think of what we’d do if we had meetings at the school, y’know?” Natasha nodded. 

“Makes sense,” she said. 

“….right.” Sam said, “Well I was thinking that we could use this first meeting to get to know each other, and plan our first outing.” Steve finally hauled himself to his feet, approaching with a smile in stark contrast to Natasha’s stoic expression. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, “I misread the email and we went to the wrong building on the other side of campus, so we had to run over, and I’ve lost my inhaler-” 

“Again,” Natasha said in the same bored tones. 

“But we’re both really excited for this club. I’ve volunteered with the local wetlands conservation group the last couple years and it’ll be really cool to see some of the species we’ve been working to protect.” 

“Oh thats really cool!” Sam said. He didn’t know there was a local wetlands conservation group. He made a mental note to look into it. Maybe he could ask Steve more about it later. 

“Yeah, we raise funds and awareness, and also do things like pick up litter in the local parks.” Steve was looking more and more enthusiastic as he talked about his volunteer work. Natasha was looking more and more bored, but Sam was beginning to suspect that was her default expression. 

The discussion moved from Steve’s volunteer work to the various local ecosystems and the bird species they supported. By the time they wrapped up the meeting, Sam had discovered that Steve was a fourth year fine arts student, and a local, while Natasha was an international student from Russia, and in her third year of engineering studies. He had also realized that Steve was as passionate as he was friendly, and Natasha, under her fairly stoic exterior, had a propensity for truly terrible jokes. He was also pretty sure that they were a couple. He wasn’t sure if that made the fact that he was developing some devastatingly serious crushes on both of them better or worse. 

Two months later, when they both kissed him on a midnight owl stakeout, he decided it was definitely better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/134323896963/i-started-a-bird-watching-club-at-school-and-you)


	10. At the Farm (Clint/Laura/Natasha/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> squirrelstone said:  
> Could you write something with Laura/Clint/Natasha/Bucky? I will take literally anything, but if you need a prompt: "I swear I'm the only sane one around here." :)

Cooper and Lila tore through the kitchen like a hurricane, the two teenagers snatching up what seemed to be every bit of food that Laura wasn’t currently cooking with. Natty came in after them at a more sedate pace, her sister Nicky trailing after her like a shadow as usual. Unlike her older siblings, Natty actually took the time to greet her mother and Bucky, who was sitting at the counter chopping vegetables with a machete that Laura was really hoping had never been used for murder. She didn’t stay long though, her and the toddler disappearing after grabbing a bag of chips, ignoring her mother’s shouts about ruining their dinner. Laura glanced over at Bucky, who wasn’t even trying to hide his smirk. 

“Like they listen to you any better,” she said, rolling her eyes and going back to stirring the massive pot of stew on the stove. 

“They do,” Bucky said, “remember, I’m a terrifying assassin.”

“Sure you are buck-buck.” Laura didn’t have to see him to know that Bucky was probably flipping her off, and she smiled in triumph. They were interrupted by the cries of a baby before Bucky could think of any better comeback. 

“I’ve got her,” Bucky said before Laura could say anything, and she turned slightly to watch the former assassin slide off of his stool and walk over to the bassinet in the corner, swinging the baby inside into his arms. Walking back to the counter, he put a metal finger into her mouth, which she gleefully latched onto, sucking contentedly in her father’s arms. 

“I’ve never had a child be so angry about teething as that girl,” Laura said, and Bucky laughed, looking down at his daughter fondly. 

“Rebecca was the same,” he said, referring to the baby’s namesake. Laura braced herself for a ‘back in the day’ story, and sure enough- “Back then we couldn’t afford much in the way of medicine, and-” Laura smiled, half listening as she turned back to the stove. It was never so bad as when they had Steve and Sam over for dinner, but the grandpa-stories were a very real and constant threat of conversation with Bucky. She couldn’t begrudge him them though, not after everything that he’d been through to get them back. 

The slam of the front door announced the arrival of the final members of the household, and sure enough Clint appeared in the doorway shortly, taking a huge, appreciative sniff of the air as he hummed. 

“Fuck that smells good,” he said with feeling. 

“Watch your fucking language,” Natasha hit him on the back of the head as she pushed back him, stopping next to Laura and peering into the pot. 

“Both of you need to stop,” Laura said with all the familiar exasperation of an often-repeated scolding. 

“Yeah, don’t make me wash your fucking mouth out with soap,” Bucky added, and Laura whirled around, pointing her spoon at him. 

“You’re the worst of the lot!” She said, and everyone else laughed. Rolling her eyes, she decided the best course of action was to just ignore them, grabbing the veggies Bucky had chopped and adding them to the stew. “I swear, I’m the only sane one around here,” she mumbled into the steam. Natasha obviously heard her, as the redhead slid close to her, wrapping her arm around the other woman’s waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Love you,” Natasha whispered, and a smile curled Laura’s lips. Yeah, she was the only sane one here, but hey, where was the fun in everyone being sane?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is definitely the start of something, I can feel it, so you may want to keep an eye on [this tag on my blog](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/tagged/the-farm-AU) for any subsequent drabbles in this AU.
> 
> [reblog on tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/post/134324978518/could-you-write-something-with)


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